


Human

by writing_ramblings



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Inspired by Fanart, Little Preparation, M/M, Sex, Spit As Lube, Top Jesse McCree, Wounded, desert sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 01:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16944822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_ramblings/pseuds/writing_ramblings
Summary: The bullet flies across the railings had McCree’s name on it, and nothing could stop it. If he survived, he still had Talon agents to fend off, plus the third party that assaulted both parts. Just when McCree opens his mouth to murmur a little prayer, darkness takes over. Death has come earlier for him. It carries the gunslinger through the air, into the bright red and orange of the sky until they find their way back down to earth. When Jesse opens his eyes again he doesn’t see a skeleton holding a scythe; it’s not Death himself that had taken him, but one of his angels with a bone mask, a hood to hide their dim halo and his wings were tendrils of smoke.The Reaper stumbles back into the deserted road as he covers the bleeding wound by his hip, but doesn’t let himself fall before the cowboy. The other enemies had also been a surprised for the Talon team, and had shot at the wraith. Reaper doesn’t look at McCree, and when the cowboy steps closer, he steps back.McCree raises a hand while the other sheathes his revolver. "I’m not gun' hurt ya." He says, but Reaper keeps his distance. "Ya saved me."





	Human

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [collophora's fanart](http://collophora.tumblr.com/post/178057623556/better-nate-than-lever-here-is-one-piece-i-did). It doesn't havethe exact words, but the picture highly inspired the setting and what they talk about.

_"To be human is to love_  
_Even when it gets too much_  
_I'm not ready to give up"_

 

The bullet flying across the railings had McCree’s name on it, and nothing could stop it. If he survived, he still had Talon agents to fend off, plus the third party that assaulted both parts. Just when McCree opens his mouth to murmur a little prayer, darkness takes over. Death has come earlier for him. It carries the gunslinger through the air, into the bright red and orange of the sky until they find their way back down to earth. When Jesse opens his eyes again he doesn’t see a skeleton holding a scythe; it’s not Death himself that had taken him, but one of his angels with a bone mask, a hood to hide their dim halo and his wings were tendrils of smoke.

The Reaper stumbles back into the deserted road as he covers the bleeding wound by his hip, but doesn’t let himself fall before the cowboy. The other enemies had also been a surprised for the Talon team, and had shot at the wraith. Reaper doesn’t look at McCree, and when the cowboy steps closer, he steps back.

McCree raises a hand while the other sheathes his revolver. "I’m not gun' hurt ya." He says, but Reaper keeps his distance. "Ya saved me."

The Reaper doesn’t say anything at first, "You were in my way of escaping."

McCree huffs, "So ya were just gun' leave yer whole team behind?"

“They can handle a couple of gang members," the Reaper responds and walks by McCree who turns, not wanting to miss him shifting into smoke. But he remains solid, of skin made of ash and old bones stitched together.

"Don’t feel like ya gotta stick around fer me, sugar."

"I don’t", Reaper looks over his shoulder and it takes McCree a few seconds to get it.

"Ya can’t turn, can’t ya?" He can’t help the smirk on his lips. "Yer hurt."

"Even so, it won’t take much of me to finish you off." It’s a warning from the mercenary, but the cowboy pays no mind.

"I’ll walk with ya," McCree begins his steps, pulling a cigar and his old lighter to fire it up. "Wouldn’t want any bad guys attacking ya while yer hurt. That ain’t a fair fight."

"Like I’d trust you to keep your gun off my back.”

"Ya did once," McCree bites before placing the cigar between his lips. "Besides, I owe ya, n' if I wanted to shoot ya, I already would’ve. You know I would’ve.”

Both stare at each other as the sun continues to set behind the cowboy. For a moment Reaper can see the youth behind his tired eyes that still hold the same precious shade of brown he has ever encountered. His hair has grown wilder, and the winds sway it under the rim of the cowboy hat. 

He says nothing as he turns and continues his way. The jingle of boots follow shorty behind. The smell of tobacco enters through the mask, covering up the scent of sand. Reaper counts the seconds until the cowboy speaks again; he doesn’t reach 20.

 "How’s Talon treatin’ ya?"

Reaper doesn’t answer, he continues to stalk away, trying to create distance between McCree and him, but the cowboy remains behind, like a lost pup finding a new home, just like he did all those years ago.

Reaper’s ribs ache, he feels the wound throbbing, and a hiss escapes his mouth, his feet also drag over the road.

"Woah, you okay?"

Something's not right. This is not unusual, Reaper hasn’t been able to wraith before, but this is different. For once he's too weak. He wasted his last ounce of strength and control on saving the cowboy. McCree can never know.

"I’m fine," Reaper whispers with poison, trying to scare McCree away like he once did, but he seems to be getting closer.

"You should rest," McCree suggests, standing by Reaper’s side.

"You can rot in the desert if you want." Reaper straightens, holding the groan of pain between his teeth. "I will go on."

"Hm, stubborn as always." McCree smiles around his cigar as he sucks in a breath. The embers burning red for a blink.

"Fool as always."

"There’s nothing foolish about steppin’ back when things are too rough to handle, ya taught me that.”

"I did no such thing." Because Gabriel is gone. Gabriel Reyes was a weak man that held himself back. Reaper is better, stronger, and deadlier.

"No, I’m pretty sure it was you, Gabe." McCree teases, he won’t let Reaper forget about his past that easy. 

Reaper doesn’t give him the satisfaction, he bites his tongue and paces faster, but a bolt of pain makes him slow down again. At least if McCree notices it, he keeps it to himself. The cowboy keeps everything to himself after that. They walk in silence, only the jingle of McCree’s boots follow. 

Reaper looks at his hand, tries to shift, but only wisps of smoke curls around his claws.

"Is that normal?” Jesse asks over Reapers shoulder.

The wraith huffs and looks away, "All your talking is not helping.”

“Am I distracting ya, now?” McCree seems to be fond of this idea, that he has Reaper wrapped around his finger like Gabriel was when they first started their affair. One word with his gravelly voice and Gabriel would melt.

A brief memory flashes behind the bone mask, of Gabriel in front of his old black and red team, and McCree sitting in the far left. The cowboy winked at him and Gabriel Fucking Reyes, commander and war veteran, stuttered like a little boy.

“Don’t make me regret keeping you alive all this time.”

“Don’t forget who’s hurt here,” McCree threatens back, and Reaper knows it’s not an empty one.

Reaper just needs more time to heal. Once he can shift to smoke, he will vanish, and leave the cowboy in the middle of nowhere, wishing the wraith had blown his brains out instead of forsaking him to the mirages of the desert.

At some point the cowboy offers his cigar, but Reaper declines. Still he swallows to the thought of his lips being anywhere near McCree’s, or a spot they’ve touch. Feeling the ghost of what they once had when Gabriel was whole won’t help anything.

Then it clicks.

" _He makes you human, Gabriel_ ," Moira’s voice travels Gabriel back in time, when his body wasn’t working the way she wanted, after she found out Jesse and Gabriel's bond ran deeper than she thought.

Reaper suddenly turns, one of his shotguns out in a blink, and against the cowboy’s throat.

McCree laughs to hide the shock in his eyes, a betrayal that doesn’t play for the first time. "Took ya longer than I thought for ya to point somethin’ at me. Though I was hoping it’d be yer third shotgun."

Reaper presses the end closer to the cowboy's bobbing Adam’s apple. "The one time you need to run, you stay.”

McCree’s grin falters and his gaze is gentle. "Maybe that’s why I stayed. I’m not leavin’ ya like this on yer own."

“What do you think it’s going to happen? We reach the end of the road, holding hands, and things go back to what they were nine years ago?” The weapon doesn’t press as tight, but it’s still raised. “Once my team finds me, you are dead.”

“Unless…” McCree trails with lisp.

Reaper cocks his head like a crow, looking over his next victim. “You are just as foolish as you were.”

“I ain’t leavin’ ya again.”

Reaper remains like a statue, pondering over the cowboy’s devotion. He wants to follow into the wolf’s den. “No.” Reaper lowers his gun. “We are ordered to kill Overwatch, you worked for them once.”

“I recall ya always said I worked for _you_.” He pronounces the last world clearly, without his southern touch. “And that’s how I want it to be again.”

“Why?”

McCree huffs, “Thought I was being clear, Gabriel.”

“He isn’t here.”

McCree steps closer, his gaze searches through the holes in the mask until he can see the faintest light of Gabriel’s eyes. “I know he is, somewhere. And I want him back.”

Reaper’s body tries to fight it. He can feel his chest aching with a pulsing feeling he hasn’t known for a long time. It’s a fire kindling back to life, burning from the inside. His bones splinter, his skin turns to ash and his coat to smoke.

McCree reaches out to get a hold of him, “Gabriel—”

Reaper stumbles to his knees as he coughs. He feels the embers of McCree’s cigar in his throat, and the burning spark on his tongue.

“C’mon.” McCree hooks Reaper’s arm around his shoulder and starts helping him to move out of the road.

Reaper’s boots heavily mark the sand, a trail the night air will soon erase. They reach a couple of rocks that make good cover when they sit on McCree’s serape. Reaper picks a corner with a tear and comments, “You should throw this filth away already.”

“I always hoped you’d patch it for me again.”

Reaper drops the corner and leans against the rocks, hand over his would.

“Need me to do somethin’?”

“No.”

“Alright, as long as ya don’t pass out.”

Reaper lowers his head and after a minute or so of nothing, he adds, “It will heal on its own. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Do ya at least feel it better?” McCree raises an eyebrow. “Worse?”

Reaper tests the wound when he presses lightly, it doesn’t hurt as it first did. “Better.”

“We’ll wait then.”

Reaper squints his eyes as he watches McCree lay back, arms behind his head and legs comfortably stretched, and, like the fool that he is, closes his eyes.

 

McCree wakes up with a gasp when he feels the tips of claws grasping up his neck, but there’s no real threat. Reaper’s saddling his lap, one hand around his throat, the other holding on to his mechanical arm over the cowboy’s head. McCree looks to his side, his revolver is buried on the sand, seems close, but Jesse knows that if he tries it will be just out of reach. Leave it to Reaper to fill you with false hope. “Ya recovered, I see.”

Reaper cocks his head just like he did before. “I can’t even bring myself to close around you.”

“Gabe--?”

“What is it that you have over me? Over him? Why do you still reach for him?”

“Because yer right.” McCree swallows and realizes Reaper has given him room to breathe, yet his lungs burn in suffocation. “I was a fool then. I let _you_ go.”

Reaper’s hand slowly lowers down Jesse’s chest, prickling his skin under his button shirt. “You can’t come. They will tear you apart.”

“Then you come with me.”

Reaper huffs and releases his hold on McCree’s wrist. “Right.” It’s the old Reyes sarcasm that McCree should be used to, but it still pierces his chest.

“Then claw my heart out, ‘cause it’ll be no used to me once ya leave.”

Reaper looks at him, as if he’s taking it in consideration. His hands reach back at his shotguns and unsheathes them. McCree’s heart thumps in his ribcage, Death’s knocking, and there will be no angel to save him this time.

Reaper throws his weapons back to the sand and remains looking at Jesse. Now Jesse can feel his heart in his throat as he swallows around it. Reaper’s body is practically shaking with every beat; it’s a new feeling after being nothing but a memory. McCree dares to hook two fingers under Reaper’s mask; the wraith swallows as it flings off to the ground, and McCree sucks in a breath to the sight of his old lover. His hair has grown into beautiful inky locks with some fine gray hairs in between. His beard is pretty much the same, but his skin is grayer. McCree almost weeps to the sight of Gabriel’s eyes; they’ve lost their color and light, if it weren’t Gabriel, McCree wouldn’t recognize this gaze.

Still, Jesse and Gabriel are pulled to each other like they once were. Their mouths meet in a passionate first kiss. They thirst for each other, long for their touch, and in this little paradise they’ve created in the middle of the desert they can allow themselves this moment. McCree’s hands travel down Reaper’s hourglass figure, over the tight leather and coat, until he can get a good hold of Reaper’s ass. Reyes’ body reacts by pleasure, and by history, he presses his hips against Jesse’s, and continues to grind against the cowboy until he earns a groan. They kiss for minutes that feel like an hour. The pace slows before it quickens, and then slows again to catch their breaths. It’s obvious through their clothes they want more, but at the same time don’t want to rush it. If this is the only night they will have together, they will take their time.

Gabriel’s hair spreads over McCree’s serape as he’s laid, and the cowboy kneels between the mercenary’s thighs, almost chocking on how tight the leather wraps around them, as if he had nothing on but black paint.

“Not that this looks bad on ya or anythin’,” McCree says with a huff, “But how do I take it all off?”

Jesse swears he sees the faintest smile on Gabriel’s lips before his entire outfit dissolves to smoke. McCree’s eyes widen to the body he has missed, the body that has barely changed except for new additions of scars.

Gabriel’s cock stands proudly, fat and dripping from all the grinding and kissing. It’s too delicious for McCree to resist and dives right for it, licking around the base before kissing the crown and taking it in his mouth. Gabriel gasps with how Jesse works, he always has. The first time they started their affair, he didn’t think much of it, he expected Jesse to be more of sucking and nothing much, but Jesse praises Gabriel’s body without words. He uses his tongue to write poems, his teeth to leave treasure marks on the sensitive spots in his thighs and his lips to kiss every inch of Gabriel’s skin. Gabriel has never known a lover that could make him squirm and unable to keep his mouth closed. Jesse’s mouth isn’t the only things that riles him up; the cowboy’s hands roam everywhere he can reach, and Gabriel claws at McCree’s clothes, wanting to tear it into pieces. McCree throws Reyes a bone and takes his shirt off, but remains in his jeans, after all, his main focus is Gabriel’s leaking cock, not his own.

“Turn around fer me, pumpkin,” McCree requests, and licks his lips slowly, not letting any left over from Gabriel go to waste. “I remember just how ya like it.” McCree almost loses his train of thought when Gabriel turns around and curves his back, showcasing his plump cheeks and built thighs for him to take. Gabriel still tastes the same, and his body responds like it used to, curving at every flick of Jesse’s tongue, and pressing back when a shock of pleasure coiled in his gut.

“Jesse…” Gabriel hasn’t quiet down since McCree started. He rambles words and moans, and repeats Jesse’s name after going years without saying it once. He never thought Reaper was worth it of reciting the name of the best thing to ever come from those years of war and chaos. McCree kneels in front of Gabriel like he’s the one that needs redemption, and preys on him like he’s something holy.

“Please,” Gabriel pleads for many things, and shuts his eyes to keep his thoughts in control. “Let me.”

“No, no, no,” McCree drawls, still savoring Gabriel’s pucker. “Let me show ya how much I’ve missed ya, darlin’. I need ya, n’ I’m sure ya need this, too.”

Gabriel swallows his words when the next lick comes.

Even if McCree’s the one doing the giving, that doesn’t mean he’ll do it easy. He did say he remembers how Gabriel likes it, and Gabriel likes to be on the edge, to be a squirming mess while his fat cock leaks between his thighs. After three fingers are buried in him, he’s begging for Jesse’s cock, that’s still tightly trapped in his jeans. Finally, he gives in and pulls it out to rub his swollen head against Gabriel’s loose hole, teasing the wraith just a little bit more before he pushes inside.

The velvet heat swallows him, and he sighs with relief, feeling at home. “Fuck, Gabe, angel, sugar…”

“Jesse,” Gabriel hisses to the stretch, the light pain of simple preparation, but he loves it. His hips jerk back, pressing on, taking Jesse.

“Shit, darlin’, yer gun’ make me cum already.”

Gabriel smirks over his shoulder and continues to push while Jesse sits on the heels of his boots and watches his cock disappear inside of Gabriel. When he hits the end, when there’s nothing more of Jesse to take, Gabriel sways his hips from side to side, hypnotizing the cowboy, before he pulls away. He slams back against Jesse, almost knocking him down, but McCree holds on to his old commander’s hips. His fingers hook perfectly on his sides, like they’ve never left.

Gabriel takes over the ride, he moves at his pace, faster than slower. He slams against Jesse and howls when the cock brushes the sweet spot, but he tries to avoid it after that, not wanting this to be a quick one. He seems to take longer than McCree can handle since the cowboy growls and leans over Gabriel, pinning the older man’s head down, but keeping his hips up.

“Let me handle it from here, sweetcheeks.”

He rams into Gabriel without mercy, faster and deeper. The slap of skin against skin echo in the night, traveling for many miles for others to know forbidden lovers are about to split the ground in two. McCree buries his nose into Gabriel’s hair, this is new, long locks for him to tangle his fingers in. It smells like smoke and fire, tendrils of a flame that has grown with time and burns through his skin. Even if Gabriel is right under him, Jesse fears he will slip away into the wind. He wraps his prosthetic arm around the wraith’s neck, and bites down on his shoulder, marking him for the first time in almost a decade.

“Jesse!” Gabriel comes with the scream, and then a gasp as McCree continues to milk every drop from him.

“That’s it, sugar,” the cowboy coos as he continues to fuck Gabriel, feeling his shaking limbs about to give up. “You can take bit more of me, can ya?” He says the last line with a laugh before ramming deep into his lover.

And Gabriel does. He allows Jesse to use him as he please, to continue fucking into his abused hole, to grab everywhere he can and leave marks that won’t fade even when he shifts to smoke. McCree finishes with a dragged out groan, filling Gabriel to the rim before he slips out hastily to torture the older man. Gabriel’s hips drop to the serape, unable to hold himself any longer. Jesse always knew how to tire his body out, even with the enhancements in his veins.

Jesse crawls besides Gabriel and peppers kisses over his shoulder even while Gabriel turns on his side. McCree keeps him in place with an arm around his waist, not wanting him to fade away yet. Gabriel is drifting into sleep, something his body doesn’t allow him to do much since he’s always alert of an attack from outside, or inside, forces. His mind is always stirring, working and plotting while others lose a night in sleep. With Jesse, it seems nothing matters, his body is going numb, drifting to oblivion for rest. He lets himself be taken, he will deal with the rest in the morning.

 


End file.
